Saturday, December 30, 2006

Out of town this weekend, so no chance to check the blogrolls. However, if you'd like to share an item via TrackBack, please feel free to do so, as long as your submission follows the TrackBack policy.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

I found out something about my Big Sister (who's 5'4'') this week that I didn't know.

She lives a sheltered life.

Okay, I actually knew her life was somewhat sheltered. But it hit me just how sheltered.

No, I don't mean things like meeting certain undesirable elements of society. I mean from good things. From pleasant things. From positive things.

Like really good movies.

You see, my Big Sister (who's 5'4'') has never seen "It's a Wonderful Life," for example. She's seen parts of it, but never the whole thing. Of all the times it's aired on network TV or on local channels during the Christmas season over the years, she's never seen it all.

Oh, that's not all.

She's never seen "A Christmas Story" either. No "I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!" or "You'll shoot your eye out" or "It's a Major Award!" or "Fra-gee-lay. That must be Italian." or "I TRIPLE-dog-dare ya!" or ... Well, if you've seen the movie, you know I could go on and on. But my Big Sister hasn't seen it.

And she's never seen The Princess Bride. Which means that "As you wish" has no special meaning to her. Nor does "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Neither does "Anybody want a peanut?" hold any special meaning. Nor the R.O.U.S.es. Nor "INCONCEIVABLE!" Nor "Not to 50!" Nor anything from that movie.

And she's never seen Casablanca. Which means she doesn't know the answer to the question: "Liebchen - sweetnessheart, what watch?" Or "What kind of a man is Captain Renault?" She doesn't know who Captain Renault told his men to arrest for killing Major Strasser. Or anything from that movie.

My Big Sister (who's 5'4'') has lived a sheltered life. The Wife and I are planning an intervention. Or a reverse intervention.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Of course, that led to me getting a little leg from the Wife when we got home...

If you have a post about an interesting gift, or anything else you have that might be interesting that you'd like to share via TrackBack, please feel free to do so, as long as your submission follows the TrackBack policy.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, so up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook, when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, Laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

The player of this game starts with "3 things he/ she would love to get for Christmas" and also has to list "3 things he/ she definitely does not want to get for Christmas". Then he/she tags 5 friends and list their names. The ones who get tagged need to write on their blogs about their Christmas wishes, as well as state this rule clearly, then tag 5 more victims. And the one who tags need to leave his/her victim a comment that says "you've been Christmas tagged!" in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

Those two pups were brought in by old dog Joe StainsWhose life there in Tempe is devoid of the rains.While Joe Stains can often be full of much blusterHe softened when tagged with this meme by young Buster.

But who had tagged Buster? Of course you'd feel smugIf you knew it was none other than Ronin The Pug.Ronin shared his wishes as the meme, it required,Plus two-thirds again more. There's much he desired.

He was tagged with the meme by those two doggy mugsNamed Gidget and Duke from A Tail Of Two Pugs.Now Gidget and Duke love the Christmas sensation.In this meme it turns out they are second generation.

For they were hit with it hard by Pug Blog's DjangoWho started this long-listed Christmas meme tango.

Now that all are aware of this meme's genealogyHere's my list of things I'd love to get on the Holiday.

But it's Christmas and that means it's not about gettingThe second wish of course, is a stop to blood-letting.

The third thing I want is some peace and some quietI'm tired of protesting and calling for riots.

What do I not want? Don't think I'm insane,But what I don't want is more of the same.By that I mean fussing and fighting and strife.I just want to spend time with the kids and the Wife.

I don't want to listen to idiots on TV.I don't want to hear about Nancy Pelosi.I don't want to read about trashing my nation.I don't think that war losses are cause for cel'bration.

You might think I'm sounding like Seuss' old Grinch,But I don't want the noise and I don't want the stenchOf fussing and fighting and cursing and yellingOf blaming, accusing, or lies that they're telling.

It's Christmas and that means to every nationGod came to this world to bring us salvation.

Muslim and Hindu and Christian and Jew,Every belief on this world, held by me or by you,If it preaches love for your fellow man,Live up to its teachings. I know that you can.

If you don't believe as I believe, that's alright, that's okay,I still wish you all, Merry Christmas, anyway.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Some point to Ellen Degeneres' character Ellen Morgan on Ellen, which aired from 1994-1998.

Others remember Tony Randall's character Sidney Shore from Love, Sidney, which aired from 1981-1983. Other's say that, unlike Ellen, it was never explicitly stated that Sidney was homosexual.

Then there's Billy Crystal's character Jodie Dallas from Soap, which aired from 1977-1981. Of course, he was not a lead character.

Few remember Vincent Schiavelli's character Peter Panama from The Corner Bar, which was on the air in 1972 & 1973.

While not on U.S. television, John Inman played Wilberforce Clayborne Humphries on Are You Being Served?, which later aired on PBS in America. While John Inman is homosexual, there's nothing in the show that says that Mr. Humphries is. It certainly seems that it's implied ... or that other characters thought he was.

But one character precedes them all. And it's a character from a holiday classic.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Georgia is a pretty special and wonderful place to live. We have mountains and seashores, wide open spaces and Atlanta. If you live in Georgia, you sometimes hear the term "The Two Georgias." That's referring to Atlanta and then the rest of Georgia. I live in "the rest of Georgia." Rural South Georgia to be precise.

Agriculture is pretty important here. If you go out for a Sunday drive, you'll see cows, goats, chicken houses, and lots of immigrants working in the fields. You'll have to watch the roads carefully, though, because you have to share the roads with large trucks such as the ones hauling logs or wood chips to the mills. Early in the morning, you're likely to see a truck hauling live chickens to Stillmore or Claxton. If you don't live in a rural area, you don't know about the chicken trucks; they transport lots and lots of white feathered chickens to the poultry plant where they will be "made ready" to sell at your local grocery store.

A few months back during late summer, my mother-in-law and her neighbor had struck up a morning conversation when they went to the mail box to retrieve the Savannah Morning News to read while sipping a morning cup of coffee. As they were talking, a Claxton Poultry truck roared past and lost a chicken. It fell off the truck right smack dab in the middle of the road in front of my mother-in-law and her neighbor.

Well, my mother-in-law has a soft spot for animals... even the ones that are supposed to end up on your Sunday dinner plate... so she raced out into the highway to rescue the dazed chicken before it got run over. The neighbor (who is from Canada and has only been in the US for about a year) had never before seen a live chicken, so needless to say she became quite animated over the whole thing.

The two ladies decided they needed to see if the chicken was ok, so my MIL took the chicken inside and checked her out. She seemed to be only dazed and a little scared to be out of a pen, so my MIL put her in a laundry basket. There the chicken stayed for the rest of the day and the night...only she was banished to the storehouse so she wouldn't stink up the house.

Over the next few days and weeks, the neighbor visited and became quite attached to the chicken, so she took it home with her and made it her pet. The chicken's name is Lulu. Lulu eats the cat food that's left out on the back stoop, and she really loves birdseed. She'll come up to you and make those "brrrrrraaaaawwwwwk' chicken noises, poop, and wait to be petted. I haven't petted Lulu yet. There was talk of bringing Lulu to my house for Christmas...as a pet...not as supper. I said noooooo.

Lulu was headed to the poultry plant to become someone's main course. Most chickens I buy to fix for supper are around 2 or 3 pounds. The neighbor's been taking exceptionally good care of Lulu since the summer. Lulu is headed on towards 15 pounds now. I told my neighbor about Lulu. My neighbor had a pet chicken...it lived to be 13 years old. It makes me wonder how big Lulu is going to get.

I sometimes wish I lived near Atlanta so I could go to the theatre and museums and such, but if I lived there, I don't think my life would be near as exciting...or at least not near as unique..as living in south Georgia where neighbors have pet chickens.

I can just hear Jeff Foxworthy saying, "If you've ever rescued a chicken from the middle of the highway..." or "If you've ever rescued a chicken that fell off a truck..." or "If you've ever taken to raising a chicken for a pet...you might be a redneck."

This week, I've been fighting a cold. Might have caught it from one of the grandchildren. Last time they were over here, they were coughing.

It doesn't alarm the Wife. One of them has had a cough since 2001, so I guess they're used to it. I think something's wrong. But I could be wrong.

But, for whatever reason, I'm sick.

So, I've been sitting at home today, trying to catch up on email and surfing the 'Net. Found a couple of YouTubes to post, but they seem to cause a problem with some IE installations when posted here. Got no idea what the issue is. Need to find out from other Dreamhost-hosted bloggers and see if it's me, Dreamhost, or something else.

Could be that I'm screwing up just because I'm sick.

Anyway, I have Headline News ready for later. But no idea about beyond that.

My Big Sister (who's 5'4'') promises a post for tomorrow that's a real lulu. Heh. You'll get that one later.

I've got a post ready for Friday. I thought about posting it today, but I might not be able to post anything then, so I'm keeping it in storage. You'll like it, though.

In the meantime, I'm going to grab a blanket and try to watch everything TiVo has queued up. If that fails, I'll crawl back in bed and turn it on the History channel. Unless TiVo has nothing but History Channel queued up. Then I'll watch ... heck, it don't matter. I'll just fall aslepp under the influence of drungsnsd . Ooops.

I thingk they are kicking in now. And it's too much trouble to go ack and bamke correcetions.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

What with everyone getting all done up for the holidays and getting ito the Chrsi8tmas spirot, I thought it'd be a good thing for met o share my world famous fruitcake recipe.

Now, them folks over up in Claxton are rpoud of their fruitcakes. But you know what? those that's in the know drives all the wya over here for Cousin Red's Famous Fruitcakes.

I used to do these every year. But things happened and I ain't made one for a spell now. So, excuse me while I try to remember the recipe. In fact, I'm going to cook one up right now and rithw about at here.

Here's what you need:

a cup of water (from the tap, no bottled stuff)

a cup of Dixie Chrystals sugar

four large chicken eggs

two cups of dried fruit (you can find this at the Piggly Wiggly)

a teaspoon of Arm & Hammer baking soda

a teaspoon of Morton salt

a cup of brown sugar (brand don't matter(

lemon juice (you can use that ReaLemon stuff if you must)

nuts (I like pecans, but you can use walnuts)

a bottle of whiskey (whiskey may be replaced with your favorite adult beverage of choice. Don't use beer. Trust me.)

Directions:

Sample the whiskey to check for quality.

Take a large bowl.

Check the whiskey again. To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.

Repeat.

Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again.

Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup.

Turn off the mixer.

Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something.

Check the whiskey.

Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.

Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.

Grease the oven.

Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner.

Throw the bowl out of the window, check the whiskey again and go to bed.

Monday, December 18, 2006

You know, you'd take a sheet of notebook paper, fold it length-ways twice, then start in the corner, folding the corner up, then repeating the fold over and over until you had just a little piece to tuck in. Then you'd have your paper football.

We used to do that in school.

The slanted desks we had were all we had, sometimes. They were difficult, because the person playing "downhill" had to worry about hitting it too hard and the ball falling off. The person playing "uphill" needed to ensure he didn't spin the football too much, or it would slide back down.

The flat tables in the library were the best. When the librarian let us play, that is.

Oh, and some classrooms had flat tables or desks. And those were great for playing football.

Different rules could be applied. For example, with some, if you hit the football off the end of the table, your opponent could attempt a field goal. Others allowed field goals only if you didn't get the ball past mid-field. Some allowed two-point conversions. Others didn't. Some had goalposts that were index finger to index finger with thumbs as uprights. Others had thumb to thumb with index fingers as uprights. Little variations here and there.

Some (including me) got together and set up a league so everyone played under the same rules. They set up schedules so everyone played everyone. And then had playoffs. I never was one of the great players. I was okay, but not as good as others.

I was good at the field goals, though. I could hit the longest and straightest. I was the first to hit the ball out the top window from three rows away. Such an accomplishment, right?

Playing paper football was fun. But it's something that you don't really do once you're all grown up.

Well, it used to be that way.

You see, there's a local group of folks ... grown men, actually ... that are involved with a company that developed a Finger Football game. And no, I'm not one of them.

Zelosport is the name of the company, and some local fellows have a hit on their hands. They have licensed all 32 NFL teams, and so far, 3 college teams (Georgia, Auburn, and Alabama) with more coming.

A while back, my Big Sister (who's 5'4'') posted one of her favorite recipies here on this little blog. It's her recipie for her Cream Cheese Pound Cake.

Now, over the years, we've picked on her about her cooking. But in reality, she's a good cook. And I really like her cream cheese pound cake.

Turns out that Deborah Uhler of Eat Your History was inspired to collect some recipes of bloggers for a book she was compiling. And she asked my Big Sister (who's 5'4'') for permission to include it. And my sister agreed.

Well, doggone, if she didn't actually go ahead and publish the thing. It contains recipes from some of the best blogs on the Internet. And from this little blog, too.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

In Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, one of the opening sequences has Adm. Kirk talking Lt. Saavik about a test she had just been through. It was the scenario involving a ship (the Kobayashi Maru) in distress. It was a no-win situation.

Kirk told Saavik that "how we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life."

The irony is that Kirk had never faced the scenario.

Unlike characters in a movie, we have to deal with death. I'll leave it to the philosophers to determine if how we deal with death is as important as how we deal with life. Although I think it is.

As a child, I knew all four of my grandparents. And two of my great-grandparents (my mother's mother's parents). I obviously knew more, since I've seen a picture of me sitting on the knee of another great-grandparent (my father's father's father). But I don't remember him, or his passing.

The first death in the family I recall was my great-grandfather (my mother's mother's father). He died in 1967.

My sisters all cried when "Pa" (as we called him) died. I didn't. Because I didn't believe he was dead. I was in denial.

I eventually came to realize that it was true. Pa was gone.

The next family member I remember losing was my grandfather (my father's father), "Granddaddy," who died about six months later, in early 1968.

I didn't like that old man. He was mean. Really mean. Probably because he had a hard life. He had one leg. One eye. One thumb. And a damaged back (broken earlier in life). No, his nickname wasn't "Lucky."

He had it rough. And was rough. I remember wishing he'd just die.

One day, he did.

I cried.

Not sure if it was from loss, or guilt, or what. But we all got home from school one day and were told Granddaddy was dead. We all cried.

No other close family member died until my great-grandmother (my mother's mother's mother), "Ma," died in 1976. I was nearly grown, and dealt with the loss not as a child, but as an almost grown-up. I didn't cry. But I mourned.

Three years later, I lost another grandfather (my mother's father), "Papa." He had been in poor health for a bit. Heart problems. So it wasn't completely unexpected. But he had been over at the house the weekend prior.

In 1992, I lost another grandparent. My father's mother, "Granny," passed away. She had been in poor health for a bit. Heart problems and diabetes.

It was odd watching her lifestyle change. Granny had been the one who you'd give a wheelbarrow for Mother's Day. Really.

She'd be outside digging stumps, hoeing her garden, killing snakes, and just living the life of a southern woman who grew up in "hard times," as she called it.

Granny's passing left me with one grandparent. My mother's mother, "Grandma," is still living. She's old, and a little bit frail, but still able to get around. Her hearing's not as good as it used to be. Her eyesight's had problems lately. And it hurts a little bit to stand. Or sit. Just part of being 93, I guess.

What brought all this up?

Well, my oldest granddaughter lost her "Granny" last night. Her father's mother took ill suddenly, was admitted to the hospital this past weekend, and died last night.

Two weeks ago, she lost a great-grandparent. Her father's father's father died. And she was really upset at that funeral.

Now, she's seven years old and facing her second funeral in two weeks.

Her mother is concerned about how to deal with it all. And she planned to tell her about her Granny's passing when she got home last night.

Hello, I'm Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, president of Iran, and we're holding a conference to help clear up any misconceptions you may have about the myth of the so-called "Holocaust." I want to thank Basil for allowing me the opportunity to help educate you on the Zionist lie that so many accept as fact.

To that end, Basil says he's helped find the actual perpetrators of the hoax. Now, we're offering this exclusive exposé.

Let's hear from the first admitted hoaxer.

My name is Hedwig Erlanger, and I freely admit that I helped perpetrate the myth of the Holocaust. It was a horrible thing I did, helping tell that lie and I am truly, truly sorry.

What's going on here?

I'm admitting the Holocaust was a hoax. You say it was a hoax, right?

Um, yeah, but...

Well, I'm here to help. I'm the proof that the Holocaust was a hoax.

Me, too.

And us, too. We all were a part of making people think the Holocaust really happened. We lied. We're sorry.

We didn't want to tell the lie, either, but Mom and Dad made us. Dirty rotten Jews!

Um...

Yeah, Mr. President. I told the lie, too. I don't know what came over me.

It started out as a joke. Then it kind of got out of hand. The truth is, the Nazis were just the nicest people. But we were sitting around one day, drinking the blood of children, when someone said, "Hey, let's tell everyone that Nazis are killing us" ...

Yeah, the place that "Bear" Bryant once called "that East Alabama Cow College."

Auburn University. Just up the road.

Now, there's no guarantee that the spammer was actually associated with Auburn. But, as you can tell from the ad, they were wanting someone to click on a site that sits on the Auburn servers.

The IP addresses aren't from Auburn. One returns that it's owned by "OCN Provided By NTT-Communications which is ISP in Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan" while the other returns info that it belongs to "Schlund + Partner AG" from Germany.

Japan and Germany.

Japan and Germany?

World War II still going on? Only using spam instead of Buzz Bombs and Zeros?

Still, I wonder what's up with using an Auburn address. I wondered if the site actually existed. Or if I'd get a "404" (not found) error.

So, I tried it. Got a "not authorized" response. Which indicates the URL might be valid. Or part of the parent path, anyway.

If they'd put this much effort into their football team, they'd be playing Ohio State instead of Florida.

Monday, December 11, 2006

The car needed an oil change. So the Wife and I took it to Sears on Saturday.

What was I thinking?

Now, to be fair, we'd had car work done at Sears before. Got a set of Michelins from there. And they've done oil changes for us before.

And since we'd been there before, and since there was a movie we wanted to see playing at the theatre next door, and since the Wife wanted to pick some things up from Sears, and since we were hungry and Chili's is close by ... we went to Sears.

After we left Chili's, we pulled into the Sears Auto Center lot, then walked inside to open a ticket.

The guy asked me my information, located me in the computer, printed the work order out, and went to work.

Last time we got the oil changed, I gave them my cell phone number in case they needed to contact me about a problem.

Silly me, I thought since I previously gave them my cell number, they would have my cell number. What was I thinking?!

After we got back from the movie (Deja Vu, which I might review for you later), I found the car still in the bay.

Turns out they ran into a small problem. Had to do with the coolant. They had to ask me if I wanted it flushed. And they didn't call me.

Actually, they called my home phone. Only, I wasn't at home. They number they had for me said "home phone" ... which indicates it was my home phone. And they called my home phone.

The home I couldn't get to ... because they had my car in the shop.

They did not call my cell phone.

I asked them whey they didn't call my cell.

They didn't have it, they said.

"I gave it to y'all last time I got the oil changed," I said.

And he showed me in the computer where they didn't have a number.

"Well, if I was in charge of running that keyboard, I'd have put it in. But I'm not. And I thought when I gave it last time, the person running that keyboard might have used it," was my response.

To his credit, he did put it in at that time. Which means next time I'm there, they'll have my cell number.

Now I got to decide about getting the coolant flushed. And if I want to deal with Sears Auto to do it.